Paul Robertson - Adventures or Paradise

ISBN: 9781626752900

In the beginning...

Once upon a, clich, beginning at a place called Ryde District Hospital, and for those not familiar that is a northern western suburb of Sydney NSW, Australia. It is also important to point out here that it is more north than west, not that there is anything at all wrong with being a 'westie'.

It is the 25th of January in the year 1953. Born at some ridiculous hour of the day, as is the norm, and coming in at a healthy 10 pounds, those of you requiring kilos here, about 4.6kg. Word quickly spread throughout the hospital ward, 'come look at the fatty that just arrived to poor Wilma Robertson'.

Evidently a Chinese chin joke should be made here, but it goes without saying I was huge, more rolls than a local bakery, enough. Fast forward through the boring stuff.

Well, a little indulgence here, as I wish to share and remember some of the nonsense and stories. I'm in my pram most likely laying naked covered in lamb or pig fat, basting in the sun, as it was considered back then and I'll quote, 'a fat brown baby is a healthy baby'. Thanks folks for the weight issues, and the skin cancers I am having removed in their dOzens annually!

So Wilma says it is time for young baby Paul to come inside, and can only guess here, this is Wilma thinking out loud but unfortunately older brother Graeme is within ear shot and decides to be mummies little helper so off he goes to bring me inside. Big brother is not really so big and is most likely only about 3. So big bro figures it's much easier to simply grab me by my ankles and drag me inside.

Well the old fashioned prams in those days are, and this is an educated guess about 1 feet or say 450 millimetres off the ground, yes I hit the ground and all hell breaks loose, ouch thanks bro for the help, not!

I don't like school, and regularly poor Wilma is receiving phone calls informing her young Paul has out run the larger boys in the school and bolted for home. Wilma would regularly find me hiding under a bush, at the top end of our street. Somehow I did get a regular education albeit not past year 10 and departed for an apprenticeship as a plumber.

Over the next few years much chasing of young girls was done, trouble found and mostly avoided, through absolute good luck, rather than clever decision making! While some friends ended up junkies and dead or institutionalized one close friend made it through those horrors years and out the other end.

Others have had notorious lives, one a book written about his criminal days and more than one has been in jail. One such character commonly known as 'Abo' consistently crossed my path, we got along. No, that was not my path but yes, I did know such characters growing up and correct I was far from squeaky clean. All manner of drugs were experimented with, but eventually it came to sink in, drugs and the associations that went with them, or get out. It was not for me, not much of a future for ones health and braincells let alone sanity.

So Paul grows up, does some travelling and much of that is in the classic aussie destinations of New Zealand and Bali, Indonesia.

I go into business with the parents, Harry and Wilma. Mistake No 413. Although out of it I experienced and got hooked on being self employed, and mastered the art of making a great hamburger at the Avoca Beach High Tide Snack Bar. Anyway we survive that, part ways in more ways than one and out of it I have a mortgage on a house over looking fabulous Copacabana Beach, on the then quaintly backward Central Coast. I swear when I arrived in 1978 they were still playing Beatles hits as if they had just been released and people were just discovering Levi's. Okay it wasn't that backward but it was close and really it was what drew us all there in the first place.

Apart from that I met my first gorgeous wife there, married promptly and not long after daughter no.1 Bree was born. Mum works at Weiser Locks during the day and when not there is usually being hotly sought after as a swimsuit model, or as the glamorous girl for page 3 of the local newspaper. Bree is extremely cute also but more about her later.

A move is made to Noosa Heads QLD, where a comfortable brick family home is bought with inground pool and nature reserve over the back fence. I decide it's paradise until I discover the wife doesn't think so and marriage no.1 is over. Yes, I did occasionally work and it's failure had nothing to do with me surfing most days, well I don't think it did?

Now after every failed marriage what does a typical aussie male surfer do? Correct answer, yes, he gets on a flight to Bali to drown his sorrows in the arms of young sun seeking single females, oh and the surf is usually really good too. It is during this soul searching journey I meet a young woman with incredible hands from Melbourne Australia. I've returned to Oz, but after several weeks am missing those magical hands, I venture south to visit her. While in town I had to visit an old flame from camping days at Lakes Entrance Victoria, and while catching up who should walk through the door but wife no. 2 who just happens to be younger sister, who is suddenly not little sister, but very cute man hungry now, young woman. Here I go again!

Wedding bells, and before long again, son Blair arrives and finally another cute daughter Phoebe. Yes, correct, I am a lean, mean marrying machine and I am putty or is it a lamb to the slaughter, never mind I am in love again. Crash burn, yep she is not happy and it's all over again after too few years. What am I doing wrong?

Again I am in rebuilding life faze, and along with my dearest sisters help, Diane, who takes me in and gives me a place to catch my breath, head back in order and life. I'm now on the mid north coast with her at Harrington, which does the trick. I put my life back on track and start up a small building business with close mate George again back in good old Avoca Beach.... 'somewhere on the east coast of Australia'. This proves reasonably successful and before long advertising is largely unnecessary as word of mouth does the job.

For several years all is rosy and life plods along with ACDC concerts being attended. This section is mostly being censored as my kids have to be able to read this to their children too and more than a few women are almost made wife no. 3. Phew! They run or I do and the 3rd marriage does not eventuate, thank goodness say all!

During this period, George and I are doing a little surf travelling and it is on one of these surf trips to, no not Bali again, but Fiji, where we stay with the great team of Scott and Mandy on Namotu Island.

Anyhow it is while flying back to Oz one of us, George I'm suggesting, discovers an article in the inflight magazine for the Solomon Islands Government seeking interested parties to invest in Tourism there. It went on to to describe all manner of attractive incentives, tax breaks and so on to invest there.

George and I, by the way, have been discussing the dream idea of one day developing, creating, our own surf focused tropical destination, aka 'Surf Resort' for about 17 years. Ever since I returned from my first Bali trip and said to George, "hey buddy, a smart guy would create himself some kind of business to enable living and surfing a few months of the year in the tropics", end quote or something along those lines! That following year George and other mates with families in tow headed off to Bali.

So you see for the 17 or so years, usually late at night after several bottles of bourbon, yes correct several, uh huh, we could put the stuff away back then, anyway. I look at George ... George looks at me, hey it's said and I quote if we don't do this idea now we'll soon be too old, what do you reckon? and that was that, we arrived back in town to put into play and motion the creation, the 'dream idea' of Sa'Moana Resort.